LIMITED ENGAGEMENT
ONLY IN NEW YORK
C indy Adams. Gossip columnist,
dog-lover. Doing a one-woman
show to raise money for the A.S.P.C.A.
Opening up her Park Avenue apartment
for four nights. Did I mention it's a pent-
house? That Doris Duke used to live
there? Now it's just Cindy and Jazzy and
Juicy. Toy Y orkies. Eight pounds of ca-
nine entitlement. "Living on Park Ave-
nue with these two has its limitations,"
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Cindy Adams with Jazzy and Juicy
she says. "Take them for a walk? What
walk? I got terraces all around that cost
me a fortune. My babies don't walk-
they take a limo. Juicy's legs are two
inches long! This is not a marathon run-
ner. I have more hair under my arms than
Juicy has on her whole body."
Relaxing at home, Cindys wearing a
black T -shirt with heart-shaped photos
of the pooches on the breast. ''My breeder
makes them every Christmas or New
Year's, or the day the incinerator got
stuffed up-whatever day there is to cel-
ebrate," she says. "I have hundreds of
them." So is Cindy going to pull a Leona?
"And leave Jazzy and Juicy twelve million
dollars? I don't think so. But I love them
so much that if they could afford the
maintenance I would leave them the
apartment. Leona had children; she had
grandchildren. I had a mother and a hus-
band who were the same age. They both
left me within three months ten years
ago. So therès no family. That's it."
O.K., so now about this show. It's
happening end of September, beginning
of October, four nights only. Cindy was
a singing comedienne back in the Stone
Age, so forget about stagefright. "And
I'm in my living room. It's a very con-
trolled environment. You can only have
fifty people. The board of my building is
going to throw me out if I do more."
She'll do the show in front of her
mantelpiece, sitting on a Ming chair.
"An event planner-I had nothing to do
with the event planner-is bringing in
gold bar-mitzvah chairs." Shèll be wear-
ing a red or white theatre suit-skirt, not
pants, natch. "To make sure they know I
have got good legs." She'll be talking
about N ew York, telling stories about ce-
lebrities. "Some of those early stories
would be funny. Jackie Gleason, when
Joey and I lived on Fifth Avenue, he lived
over us. We were on the tenth floor and
he had the penthouse. A red flocked bed-
room, I remember. One day, the door-
bell rang, and it was Jackie Gleason. He
said, 'Pal, 1'm flat, I need some bread, you
got money?' Now, you are going back a
lifetime, before plastic. These guys car-
ried a roll. Joey peeled off three thousand
dollars to give Jackie Gleason. I had
never in my life seen that much money.
Jackie Gleason took it, and that night
blew it on taking us to dinner and hiring
a little orchestra to serenade us while we
ate. Where do you hear stories like that?
These are stories."
But enough already with the ancient
history. Which living celebrities are going
to pony up two hundred and fifty dollars
to be there? "I know Barbara Walters is
coming. I know Liz Smith is coming. 1'm
very close to Judge Judy, who won't be
here-shè s on the high seas, on vacation.
Judy just called about something utterly
hysterical. Her dog, Lulu, a Maltese-
no, not a Maltese, a Shih Tzu-is not
feeling well, so she took her to the vet.
The vet prescribed Viagra. Judy said, 'It
opens the airways, and the blood flows-
that's why the guys use it.' She says, 'It's
costing me sixteen dollars a pill for Lulu.
It's like three thousand dollars for Lwu.'
Back in the old days, B.C.-before ce-
lebrity-that's probably more than she
would have spent on herself. I don't
know whether I am going to tell that
story or not, but it's a wonderful story."
What else do guests get for the ticket
price, besides Judge Judy gossip? A tour
of the apartment, including Cindy's
office, where you can't see the wallpaper
for all the framed front-page scoops.
'When I had to prove myself: I did them,"
she says. "I had Noriega going to jail. I
had the von Billow story, an exclusive. I
had the Durst story, in the can, where he
chopped up a guy in Texas. I don't do
them anymore, because I don't have to.
Now I just do a column six days a week
and am on television the seventh. So I
don't kill myself that much anymore."
So is this broad ever going to quit?
Stop writing short, smart-aleck sentences
about old-school celebs? Just stay home
and pet Juicy instead? Says Cindy: "I
don't mind if I don't do it any longer. I
just don't want somebody else doing it."
-Rebecca Mead
THE SPORTING LIFE
THE FIRE
O f the hundred and twenty-eight
women in the main draw of this
week's U.S. Open, at press time at least
fourteen were from Russia, more than
from any other country. Five of the top
ten seeds, including the No.1 seed,
Dinara Safina, are Russian. How come?
'We are strong fighters-we are al-
ways pushing hard," Elena Dementieva,
who is seeded No.4, said over the tele-
phone last week. She was in Toronto,
where she had just beaten Maria
Sharapova (No. 30) to win the Rogers
Cup. She is twenty-seven and five feet
eleven, and wears her hair in an immac-
ulate blond ponytail, like many of her
compatriots. She was born in Moscow
and now lives in Monte Carlo. She has a
murderous backhand that gets going
from what seems to be a point way below
the base of her spine. "My mom was in
love with tennis, took me to the tennis
club, and was my coach for years," De-
mentieva said. "My mom was always
supportive, but not pushing me. I was
THE NEW YORKER, SEPTEMBER 7, 2009 23